


to sleep, perchance to dream

by starkhasheart



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Consensual Somnophilia, Enthusiastic Consent, Finger Sucking, M/M, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Somnophilia, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkhasheart/pseuds/starkhasheart
Summary: Crowley has a kink.OfcourseAziraphale is going to indulge him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 504
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Top Aziraphale Recs





	to sleep, perchance to dream

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't sure about posting this because i know somnophilia is bad when its not consensual Obviously but i think ive made it clear in this that aziraphale and crowley are very much consenting and are eager to try it out  
> also................i like to project. Immensely  
> hope u enjoy <3

Having been around Crowley a multitude of times for the duration of sixty centuries, Aziraphale is keenly aware of when the demon has something on his mind; more restless than usual, a tad snippy, a bit more defensive, et cetera. Anyone besides Aziraphale probably wouldn’t have made heads nor tails of the change in demeanor, and the angel knows Crowley, and he  _ knows _ Crowley, intimately, so the night they’re in bed and Crowley’s miracled up a Rubik’s cube to let his nervous hands fiddle with it, he resolves to know what’s wrong. With the patience of a saint, Aziraphale places a bookmark in the novel he’s reading and sets it to the side, giving his undivided attention to Crowley— _ his _ Crowley, he reminds himself, smiling.

“Darling, what seems to be troubling you?” the angel prompts gently, as if Crowley is a spooked horse he’s trying to corral back into a barn.

Crowley’s fidgeting halts for a split second, then carries on. “Nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale gives him a withering look. Crowley seems to feel it, neck retracting into his shoulders as if to hide. “It’s certainly not nothing, Crowley. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Crowley makes a sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, still messing with the cube. Sighing, Aziraphale reaches over and plucks the toy out of the nervous demon’s hands, earning a protest. “Hey, I was playing with that!”

“No, you were deflecting,” Aziraphale says, setting the cube on the nightstand. He turns his attention back to Crowley. “There’s something obviously upsetting you and I won’t rest until you come out with it.”

“Be prepared to be awake for awhile,” Crowley mutters. He reaches up to scrub his hands down his face. “It’s stupid.”

“Nonsense, dear. If it’s something that’s bothering you then it’s not stupid at all.”

“It’s not…it’s not that it’s bothering me, really. It’s…” Crowley trails off, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His sunflower-gold eyes are staring into space, as if the explanation he needs is somewhere there. “Y’know when we…have  _ sssex? _ ”

“Yes, dear. I am aware of when we have sex.” Aziraphale frowns. “Am I doing something wrong? Have I not been giving you sufficient pleasure?”

“No, no, Aziraphale, that’s not it at  _ all _ ,” Crowley says quickly, fluttering his hands until he can find Aziraphale’s to grasp. “Trust me, you have been, ah, very sufficient.”

Aziraphale’s frown quirks into a smile. “Ah, I’m glad, my love.” He pats the top of Crowley’s hand. “So what’s troubling you, then?”

Crowley sighs, using his free hand to cover his face. “I—I just. I have this,  _ thing _ , okay? It’s weird, you’ll probably  _ think _ it’s weird, and we should just talk about something else—”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says firmly, effectively quieting the demon. Crowley’s looking at him owlishly, eyes mere discs of yellow. “Out with it.”

“I want you to fuck me when I’m sleeping, okay?” the demon spits, face a brilliant crimson.

Aziraphale blinks. “You want me to—”

“See, I told you you’d think it’s weird,” Crowley mutters, willing the Rubik’s cube back into his hand. He twists the cube almost violently in his hands until it comes apart. “Shit.”

“I didn’t say it was weird, dear boy,” Aziraphale says wryly, watching as Crowley struggles to piece the toy back together. The demon appears to give up, flinging the pieces up into the air to disappear them. “It’s just not what I was expecting, is all.”

Crowley grumbles something incoherent and draws the blankets around himself, like a cocoon. “It is weird, though.”

“Not necessarily, love. I’ve known people with far stranger fetishes than that.” Aziraphale taps his chin, recalling his days in the gentlemen’s club, and immediately flushes a deep pink. “But…would you care to elaborate, dear? I’m very curious about this fantasy of yours.”

Crowley gives him a scornful look, then sighs, eyes fluttering shut. “It’s stupid, and it sounds selfish, but I just have these… _ thoughts _ …of you being so  _ enamored _ with me that you can’t keep your hands off me even when I’m asleep.” He pauses, then adds on rather swiftly, “And of course I’m entirely consenting through all of this. I know you would never do anything untoward, angel.”

Aziraphale gazes at the demon for a long time, attempting to gather the right words to say to Crowley. The demon seems to take this as a rejection, and begins to scramble to apologize, until Aziraphale rasps, “I wouldn’t object to indulging you, darling.”

Aziraphale preens when Crowley’s pupils nearly swallow the yellow of his irises whole. “You…really?”

“Oh, yes,” the angel says, nodding. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t find the idea appealing.”

Crowley gulps audibly, eyes flitting about Aziraphale’s face, searching for words. His pupils are still blown, and he looks terribly endearing, so much so that the angel can’t help but lean down and press his lips against Crowley’s. The demon sighs against Aziraphale’s mouth, almost in relief.

“Now,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s lips, “we’ll just need to settle on when to do it.”

It happens a few days later.

They’re laid in bed in the flat above the bookshop, and they’ve already discussed things beforehand, Crowley giving his unmitigated consent, almost enthusiastically. Aziraphale wonders how Crowley managed to fall asleep, excited as he was, but soon the demon is splayed on the bed, completely unconscious, neck tilted enough where his face is half-covered by a pillow. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, and Aziraphale allows himself the privilege of looking.

Crowley’s always been beautiful, even when he was a serpent crawling through the dirt of Eden, shimmering black scales and a crimson underbelly, lissome and dangerous. He’s still lithe now, long legs and spindly fingers, prominent collarbones and Adam’s apple, pale skin stretched so enticingly over his bones that it’s calling Aziraphale over to lathe kisses and love-bites all over it. The angel isn’t sure how his mouth manages to water yet feel dry at the same time.

Crowley’s chest is rising and falling slowly, and his lips are slightly parted, begging to be kissed. Auburn lashes fan across freckle-dusted cheekbones, and the feeling of adoration seizes Aziraphale’s heart and squeezes. Sometimes he’s still in utter disbelief that he can call this gorgeous creature his, and the fact that Crowley trusted him enough to disclose this thing of his to the angel makes his heart swell.

Aziraphale approaches the bed slowly, willing away the creaky sounds of the ancient floorboards beneath his bare feet. He glides his fingers across the sheets before he reaches to trace figure-eights across Crowley’s thigh. He gets no reaction from the demon.

Aziraphale gingerly crawls onto the bed, looming over Crowley, close enough he could count every freckle if he had the patience. The angel doesn’t, right now, because all he wants to do is run his hands over Crowley and see if he can garner any response from the sleeping demon.

He gingerly touches Crowley’s cheek, and in a surprising turn of events, this does elicit a soft sigh, and a thrill shoots up Aziraphale’s spine. Nothing else comes from Crowley’s mouth, so Aziraphale drags his fingers down from Crowley’s cheek to the angle of his jawline, down the slope of his neck, bumping his Adam’s apple. Aziraphale is stone-silent, ears straining to pick up any difference in Crowley’s breathing, and he does happen to catch a little hitch of breath before it evens out.

A smile spreads across the angel’s face.

The pads of his fingers do a little dance across Crowley’s pecs, and his thumbs circle the demon’s nipples, and Aziraphale has to stifle a gasp when he notices Crowley is clearly getting aroused, despite his unconscious state; there’s already a bulge forming in his boxers, and Aziraphale has barely touched him yet.

Bodies are such strange things.

Curious, Aziraphale leans down and latches his mouth on one of Crowley’s nipples, whirling his tongue around it until the bud becomes stiff. He hears another hitch in the demon’s breath, but only once. He moves his mouth to the other nipple, lavishing it in the same attention, and Crowley’s apparently fully hard now, and Aziraphale is halfway there.

He unlatches himself from Crowley’s chest to shimmy down his body, eyeing the prominent tent in his boxers. He’s hesitant to pull them off, but he reminds himself that Crowley gave him his full consent, and if Aziraphale felt uncomfortable at any time he can wake Crowley up and they’ll move on. If he’s being honest, Aziraphale doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, he’s getting harder by the second, and it’s because Crowley is spread out beneath him for the taking.

Aziraphale swallows, then delicately shimmies Crowley’s boxers off. Crowley’s cock jerks upwards, finally free, a pearlescent liquid beading at the flushed tip. Aziraphale’s tongue wets his chapped lips. Throwing caution to the wind, he leans down and covers Crowley’s cock with his mouth.

This does illicit a stronger reaction from the sleeping demon this time: a shuddery intake of breath, and a little twitch of his hips. Aziraphale grasps Crowley’s hips and squeezes, trying not to moan around Crowley’s cock at his response. He sets out, lathing the head of Crowley’s cock, tonguing the slit, tracing the patterns of veins under skin. He quickens his pace, letting his throat tighten around the crown, gag reflex be damned, and it makes Crowley’s hips involuntarily thrust forward into the heat of Aziraphale’s mouth.

God, it shouldn’t be turning Aziraphale on this much, the fact that he’s sucking Crowley off in his sleep and the demon’s making these noises unknowingly, but he’s achingly hard in his trousers and in desperate need to take the edge off. He swiftly unbuckles his belt and shimmies his trousers halfway down his thighs, enough so he can take himself in hand and give himself a few strokes. He sighs around Crowley’s cock, shivering.

He gives his attention to the demon’s cock for a few more moments until he pops off, lips shiny with spit, and is greeted with a very rumpled, yet still asleep, demon, hair mussed and skin flushed such a pretty pink. His breathing seems to have picked up a bit, chest rising and falling faster than it had been.

He looks like a dessert, and Aziraphale has just finished the main course.

Aziraphale hooks his hands under Crowley’s knees and lifts his legs, spreading them so he can nestle himself between them snugly. Crowley’s cock bobs at the movement, spit-shiny, a thread of precum dripping onto the demon’s belly. Aziraphale leans over and drags his tongue through the fluid. While his mouth is busy, he calls up a minor miracle to slick his middle and ring fingers, and he reaches to tentatively circle Crowley’s entrance. Aziraphale mouths at the demon’s cock again, precum salty on his tongue, and he feels delighted at the sound Crowley makes when his middle finger breaches him. Aziraphale watches as the demon’s throat works as he swallows, how his head lolls to the side, and how his back slightly arches when the angel’s finger brushes over that one spot inside him that can make him see galaxies.

_ How is he even still asleep? _ Aziraphale wonders. He adds his ring finger and thrusts them deep, and Crowley makes a choked-off gasp, lips parted, and Lord, Aziraphale wants to lean over and capture them into a kiss. After, he promises himself, when Crowley wakes up. Right now he’s focusing on stretching Crowley out to take his cock, which is throbbing insistently, begging to sink into the demon’s warmth.

It doesn’t take much longer, considering Crowley’s body is lax from sleep, so Aziraphale gently removes his fingers from the demon and calls up more lube to slick himself before pressing inside Crowley, moving at a glacial pace. He grits his teeth, summoning all the self-control he has to not grip the demon’s bony hips and fuck him into the mattress. Crowley isn’t helping, still blissfully asleep, yet his face is twisted in pleasure, cheeks ruddy, breaths coming in stunted gasps. He actually wriggles a bit, and Aziraphale’s cock shifts inside him, and the angel gasps.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Aziraphale mutters, digging his hands into what little meat pads Crowley’s thighs and setting a slow, steady pace at first. He could get lost in the tight heat of Crowley, lose himself in the throes of passion, but he’s missing how Crowley usually is sprawled beneath him, scrabbling at his back, locking his legs around him, gasping and moaning and pleading for Aziraphale to go faster, fuck me  _ harder _ —

The angel stifles a groan as he thrusts hard and deep into Crowley, pace picking up slowly. The only sounds in the room are Aziraphale’s harsh pants, the sound of skin on skin, and the occasional whimper eking out from Crowley’s parted lips. A sheen of sweat glistens on Crowley’s browbone and even though he’s making wanton noises now he’s still out like a light, only moving from each jab of Aziraphale’s hips.

This only eggs on Aziraphale more. He thrusts even harder, hard enough that the headboard slams against the wall, leaving scuffmarks, but the angel doesn’t care. All he cares about is the demon beneath him, asleep to the world, quietly whimpering and twitching, his cock drooling strands of precum onto his belly. He’s flushed all down his chest and his head lolling with each thrust of Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale wants to photograph this moment, wants to capture it forever, and he’s so enamored by Crowley that he almost doesn’t notice the demon balling his fists into the sheets of the bed and arching his back, mouth hanging open as his eyelids fluttered open, eyes sleepy and pupils mere discs of black against gold.

“’Ziraphale, fuck,  _ yesss _ ,” the demon whines, voice thick with sleep. He’s writhing beneath Aziraphale, locking his ankles behind his back to draw the angel closer and deeper.

“There’s a love, how did you sleep?” Aziraphale asks, reaching up to cup Crowley’s face with his hand. The demon’s face is warm to the touch, flushed beautifully, and Crowley’s hair is fanned out on the pillow beneath him like a bastardization of a halo.

“ _ Ssso _ good, ‘ngel,” Crowley slurs, taking Aziraphale’s thumb into his mouth and sucking, laving it with his forked tongue. He moans around the digit, gazing at Aziraphale with heavy-lidded eyes. He looks so blissed out at a pang of love shoots through Aziraphale’s stupid human heart.

Aziraphale lets Crowley keep his thumb in his mouth while he leans down and sucks bruises on the demon’s neck, after what felt like so long. Crowley makes a pleased sound, and Aziraphale feels it rumbling in his chest, and he knows Crowley is close because he’s tightening around the angel’s cock and he’s making such gorgeous noises that are going right to Aziraphale’s prick.

Aziraphale relinquishes his hand to toy with Crowley’s nipples, pleased at the sounds this elicits now that Crowley is finally conscious. He presses featherlight kisses across the expanse of Crowley’s throat, nibbling on prominent collarbones, nipping his Adam’s apple, and the demon keens. Aziraphale reaches to take Crowley in hand but Crowley grabs his wrist before he can.

“W’nna come untouched,” Crowley mumbles, bringing Aziraphale’s hand up to his face to kiss his wrist. “L’ve you so much, angel.”

“Oh, Crowley, I love you too,” Aziraphale says, and he punctuates his statement with a thrust hard enough to make the headboard clack against the wall again.

“Y’r g’nna break th’ wall,” Crowley croaks.

“Sod the wall,” Aziraphale replies primly. He’s gripping Crowley’s hips and slamming him down to meet his thrusts, because he’s aware that Crowley also has a thing for his strength. Two birds with one stone, as they say.

It’s working, because Crowley’s moans are reaching a higher pitch and he’s panting, the sheets beneath him being torn to near shreds by his hands. His neck and shoulders are covered in purpling bruises and he’s flushed beautifully, and he’s such an image and Aziraphale is so blessed that he can see this right now, can make Crowley fall into such a state right now. His heart is swelling with love in his chest and he feels fit to burst.

Crowley whimpers raggedly. He’s tensing up, cock leaking thin strands of white onto his belly, and he’s on the precipice, about to tumble over, and Aziraphale is eager to help him fall. He nearly jackhammers into the demon, and it’s enough.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes, yes, ‘ngel, Aziraphale, angel, yes, yes,  _ ah _ ,” and Crowley seizes up so beautifully, back arched off the bed, head thrown back with a sigh so drunk with lust and sleep that Aziraphale can’t help but stare in awe. He feels the demon tighten around him as he comes, shooting strings of white all over his belly.

“Oh, you’re a vision, darling,” Aziraphale purrs, watching his demon wind down from the orgasm that was punched out of him.

Crowley’s eyelids are fluttering, as if he’s trying to stay awake. “H’rry up an’ come in me so I c’n go back t’ sleep.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.” And Aziraphale grabs Crowley’s hips again and rams back in once, twice, thrice, before he’s chasing his own release with a moan of Crowley’s name, and Crowley sighs almost drunkenly, feeling Aziraphale’s spend inside of him.

Aziraphale gently pulls out and collapses next to his demon, waving away the mess on Crowley’s stomach with a flick of his wrist. Crowley sighs, boneless and content in the angel’s arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

“Good, I take it?” Aziraphale asks softly, running his hand through Crowley’s auburn locks.

“Mm,” Crowley says. “G’nna have wank material for centuries.”

“Dear, you don’t  _ need _ wank material, I’m right here, you know.”

Crowley lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Maybe so.” His eyelids droop shut. “’M g’nna sleep again. Love you.”

Aziraphale smiles. “I love you too, darling. Sleep well. I’ll be here when you wake up.”


End file.
